


take it easy baby (make it last)

by likebrightness



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fourth of July, i know it's january but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: It turns out there are many reasons not to have jello shots with your daughter and her friends. Probably the most important is the hot twenty-three year old in an American flag bikini— blue with stars on top and red and white striped bottoms. Abby’s not sure her sunglasses are dark enough to hide how much she’s been staring.





	

Octavia announces their arrival by shouting, “Cannonball!” and leaping into the pool fully clothed.

Abby and Clarke come out the back door to hear Bellamy laughing.

“Now I know why you made me carry your stuff.”

“Still don’t know why you agreed to so readily,” Raven says from around the corner. “Your sister’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Octavia’s got everyone wrapped around her finger,” Clarke says.

“Griffin!” Octavia shouts, like she’s surprised to see her even though she’s in her pool. Spotting Abby, she continues, “And OG Griffin!”

Abby laughs and rolls her eyes. “Good to see you, too, Octavia. How’s the pool?”

“Great!”

“Hey, Abby,” Bellamy says. “Thanks for letting us invade your backyard.”

“Anytime, Bellamy, you know that.”

“It’s fine, guys,” Raven still isn’t through the gate to the backyard yet. “Just leave the cripple to deal with this giant inflatable swan.”

“Given that it’s _your_ giant inflatable swan, I figured you could handle it,” Bellamy says.

“You took your sister’s phone and keys just because she asked! Can’t you take this?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, but he takes the swan Raven has been trying unsuccessfully to get over the fence.

“Finally,” Raven says, pulling her sunglasses off her face as she comes into the backyard. She grins at Abby. “Hey, Doc. Long time no see.”

Abby smiles at her, smiles bigger when Raven steps in for a hug. She hasn’t seen Raven since her graduation more than a year ago.

“Too long,” Abby says. “How’s Cal Tech treating you?”

“Like the genius I am,” Raven says and Abby rolls her eyes.

“Hi, Raven,” Clarke says loudly. “Remember me, your best friend who you came to see?”

“I saw you last night, princess,” Raven says. “And your mom’s my friend, too, and also the hostess, so excuse me for not being rude.”

Abby leaves them to it, heads inside to text Callie. She and Marcus are supposed to be coming over, and Abby wants them to do it sooner rather than later. Clarke’s friends are all great, but being the only one over twenty-five is less great.

Callie texts back that they’re going to be late, because of course they are.

Abby doesn’t go back outside until Wells arrives. He’s so polite he would’ve come in to greet her otherwise. Plus, it’s a beautiful Fourth of July, no reason she can’t enjoy the sunshine just because she’s got twenty years on all of the guests.

Abby lies on a lounger while the kids play a rambunctious game of Marco Polo in the pool. She doesn’t watch, doesn’t look at them, doesn’t do a double take at Raven in a swimsuit.

-

Callie and Marcus still aren’t there by the time the three girls disappear to the garage and return with a platter of jello shots each. Clarke’s platter’s red, Octavia’s white, Raven’s blue. The boys clamber out of the pool as soon as they see them.

The table— the only place big enough to put all the shots— is right next to Abby’s lounger.

“Gonna join us for patriotic jello shots, Dr. G?” Octavia grins.

Abby laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. You sure you’ve got enough?”

She’s well aware there are even more in the garage refrigerator, but it seems like an easy excuse. Seems like it, until Clarke says, “We have enough to spare— c’mon, Mom.”

Raven bumps her brace against Abby’s chair. “Have some fun, Doc.”

Abby shrugs and tosses a smile Raven’s direction. “Why not?”

-

It turns out there are many reasons not to have jello shots with your daughter and her friends. Probably the most important is the hot twenty-three year old in an American flag bikini— blue with stars on top and red and white striped bottoms. Abby’s not sure her sunglasses are dark enough to hide how much she’s been staring.

It’s not like she didn’t know Raven was hot. Worse, even: they’ve always had some kind of spark. Abby met her before she knew Raven and Clarke were friends, and there was almost a flirtation— but then she found out, and her daughter’s friend— obviously off limits.

Except now Abby is three jello shots in, one right after another because they had to do one of each color, right? Abby is three jello shots in and how strong did Clarke make these things and Raven’s bikini is so small.

“Sunscreen!” Clarke yells suddenly. “Did everyone put it on? Even you, Wells. Remember that time you tried to convince me black people can’t burn? Remember how you regretted it?”

“I was six, Griffin, give me a break!”

Abby laughs. Her head is just this side of fuzzy, a pleasant buzz that kicks up as she watches Raven cover her arms in sunscreen. There is a lot of skin. Abby decides to take advantage of the empty pool.

She stays underwater for as long as she can. It’s cool and refreshing and clears the fog in her brain a bit. It’s lovely, and she kind of wants to stay forever, but then Clarke and Octavia challenge Bellamy and Wells to a game of chicken. Abby doesn’t want to be anywhere near that.

Raven’s sitting at the table, and Abby should really just sit back down in her lounger, but she takes the chair next to Raven instead. Raven grins at her.

“How’ve you been, Abby?”

“Good,” Abby says. “Boring. I’m sure your life out in California is way more interesting.”

“Nah,” Raven says. “Clarke said you’ve been putting in more time at the free clinic, yeah? Tell me about it.”

And so Abby does. Abby tells Raven about her life, and eventually hears about Raven’s, too. Raven talks with her hands, which is cute, but Abby looks at them, and then gets distracted by her arms, and her shoulders and her chest. Abby doesn’t realize she’s not wearing her sunglasses anymore until she sees the smirk on Raven’s face when she finally looks at it again.

Shit.

Callie and Marcus arrive before Abby has time to be embarrassed. She hugs her best friend and thanks God for her timing.

“Are those jello shots?” Callie asks before she even pulls back from the hug.

“Yeah,” Clarke says, having bound out of the pool to say hello. “You should totally do some.”

Callie grabs two, shoves one in Abby’s hand.

“No, Callie, I already—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Abigail,” she says. “It’s the Fourth of July.”

“You gotta do one of every color,” Octavia calls from where she is on the swan. “For America.”

“Of course,” Callie says.

She gets two blues and two whites lined up on the table for her and Abby.

“You’re not going to wuss out on me are you?”

Abby rolls her eyes and throws back the red shot.

Octavia whoops and starts chanting _U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!_ , doesn’t stop until Callie and Abby have finished all three colors. Clarke takes one, and Raven, too, and Octavia is chanting again, the boys joining in with her while Clarke and Raven do the other colors.

Abby is six jello shots in and Raven is smiling at her and Abby’s tongue feels thick and slow in her mouth.

-

Raven stays beside her. Callie and Marcus are here now, Abby has other people to entertain her, but Raven doesn’t leave the table. Abby tries not to look at her. She tries not to look at Callie, either, who is giving her Looks every chance she gets. The jello shots are each in their own individual cups, and Abby rolls one of them back and forth in her palms. She always fidgets when she’s nervous.

Raven’s ankle brushes hers under the table.

Octavia is coming outside, face fresh with red, white, and blue warpaint, as Abby puts the jello shot in her mouth.

“Did you just take a blue one?” Octavia crows. Without waiting for an answer, she launches into the chant. “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!”

Abby sighs heavily. She didn’t even mean to take it—it was there and she needed something to do with her hands. She really doesn’t need two more shots. Raven seems to be able to tell.

“You don’t have to,” she says quietly, Octavia still chanting. “I’ll punch her and she’ll shut up.”

“She takes krav maga, Raven.”

“I’ll shove her into the pool.”

Abby presses her lips together to keep her smile from getting too toothy.

“U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” Octavia chants.

Bellamy has joined her, and Wells, too, but when he realizes it’s for Abby, he quickly quiets. Callie is smirking at her, and Marcus is trying to act like he isn’t amused.

Abby rolls her eyes and reaches for a shot. “Octavia, I know you just put that paint on, but you better wash it off before you get back in my pool.”

White then red, one after another, then she flicks off Octavia. Octavia cackles.

-

When finally Raven disappears, to get a drink or a snack or Abby isn’t quite sure, really, she’s had nine jello shots by this point, and it’s only late afternoon— when finally Raven disappears, Callie leans into Abby’s side.

“Raven looks...good,” she says.

Abby turns her head away, face flushing. “Raven looks like I need a drink.”

“I think you’ve already had plenty,” Callie says.

If _Callie_ is telling her she’s drunk, she must be hammered.

-

Abby is back on her lounger. She has her sunglasses on and her eyes closed beneath them, doesn’t need the temptation of looking at Raven, who is sitting down while Octavia dances around her, trying to get her to join in. Clarke and Callie and Marcus are playing poker at the table while Wells and Bellamy take stock of the fireworks they have for later.

The music is interrupted as Clarke’s alarm starts going off. There are a variety of complaints—Octavia’s the loudest: _I was fucking dancing to that_ —but Clarke shushes them.

“It’s time to reapply sunscreen!”

“Thanks, mom friend,” Wells says.

“I’m not the mom friend.”

“You’re totally the mom friend, princess,” Bellamy joins in.

Abby doesn’t hear the rest of the argument, because Raven is suddenly in front of her, waving a bottle of sunscreen at her and looking nervous.

“Do my back?” she says.

Abby should say no, Abby _wants_ to say no, even, but how can she? Saying no tips her hand, gives her away. There’s no reason to say no except the way her pulse jumps at the thought of her hands on Raven’s skin.

Abby glances at Callie behind her sunglasses, but Callie’s somehow involved in teasing Clarke and is no help.

“Sure,” Abby says, sitting up. “Of course.”

Raven hands her the sunscreen and sits on the edge of her chair.

Abby warms the sunscreen on her hands before touching Raven’s shoulders, but Raven still gasps at the contact. Abby thinks maybe she’s being punished. Maybe God knows she thinks her daughter’s best friend is hot, and this is her punishment. Raven’s skin is smooth and soft and warm. Abby starts high, slowly moving her hands lower. She has to go under the strings of Raven’s bikini. She has to— that’s how you make sure you don’t get burnt anywhere, you even put it under the straps— but sliding her hand under them feels obscene. Doing this feels wrong, doing it in front of other people feels worse.

Abby focuses on breathing for the rest of Raven’s back. She doesn’t think about Raven’s skin, she doesn’t think about anything underneath her bikini. She thinks about breathing, thinks about keeping her hands steady, thinks about _old enough to be her mother_. When the sunscreen is all rubbed in, she leans away and lets out a breath.

“All done,” she says, and her voice does not shake.

“I can do yours, if you want,” Raven says quietly.

That’s the worst idea Abby’s ever heard. She's in a red one-piece, showing a lot less skin than Raven, but there's still no way that's going to happen.

“You know,” she says, completely and probably obviously faux nonchalant, “I think I’m just going to go inside. The sun is getting to me.”

Abby feels like everyone’s staring at her, though there’s a small part of her that knows she’s not that important. It’s not weird for her to go inside her own house. And she does it calmly— even though she thinks maybe she should run, get away from Raven and her skin as fast as she can, she walks, and it’s not weird, it’s normal, but she feels _obvious_.

She gets a glass of water, leans against the counter and drinks the whole thing.

“Abby?”

It’s Raven’s voice, from inside but not from the same room, she can’t see her yet, and Abby _cannot_ , and so she tries to hide. She sneaks down a hallway into the laundry room, surely Raven won’t find her in the laundry room, of all places, except she bumps into the washer, and a bottle of detergent falls off of it, crashes the the floor. Abby curses under her breath.

“Abby?” Raven’s voice gets closer.

Abby curses again.

“Hey,” Raven says from the doorway. She smiles gently. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” Abby bends down to get the detergent. “I knocked this over.”

She almost does it again, sets it down just on the edge of the washer, and she sees it teeter but doesn’t have the reflexes to get to it. But Raven does, apparently; she steps in and catches the bottle, puts it more securely on the washer.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Raven says, and she touches Abby’s arm.

Abby shrugs her off, _hard_. “Yes, I’m fine, could you just—”

It’s the right thing to do, really, to brush Raven off and make her leave. But Raven looks _hurt_ , and Abby is drunk and stupid and not hurting Raven seems more important than doing the right thing.

So Abby catches her by the wrist before she can leave.

“Raven,” she says. “I’m sorry. I— You’re— God, I did not need all of those jello shots.”

Raven laughs, but Abby can tell she’s still uncomfortable, the way she’s holding herself. Abby’s fingers are around her wrist and Raven’s entire arm is frozen. Abby lets go.

“You’re just drunk, Abby,” Raven says. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not— I didn’t mean—” Abby runs a hand through her hair. Raven is _so_ pretty, her smile soft and kind. Abby wants to kiss her. Abby can still hear the music playing outside, and she’s in the laundry room with her daughter’s twenty-three year old best friend, and she wants to kiss her. “Raven, you’re so—”

Her smile goes a little less soft, a little more cocky. “I’m so what?”

Abby looks at her mouth. Raven’s grin is predatory.

“I’m so what, Abby?” she says, and she takes a step closer, and Abby is drunk and stupid.

“Fuck, Raven, this is such a bad idea,” Abby says, and she doesn’t know where to put her hands. All of Raven is skin skin and skin, and Abby knows what it feels like, she knows what Raven’s skin feels like beneath her hands but not like this, not with no pretense, and she’s not sure there’s any going back if she touches her like this.

“What’s a bad idea, Abby?” Raven asks.

She knows, though, she has to know, because she is standing so close, and she’s _smirking_ , and Abby gives up on explaining, just leans in and presses her mouth against Raven’s.

For a second Raven freezes, and oh fuck, maybe she actually didn’t know what Abby was talking about, but then her hands slide around Abby’s waist and her mouth opens and holy shit, that’s her tongue.

Abby still doesn’t know where to put her hands. She clenches them into fists by her sides and tries not to lean too far into Raven, tries to hold herself back, tries to remember why she shouldn’t be doing this. It’s _hard_ , because Raven’s mouth is _amazing_ , and Abby thinks she could kiss her for hours.

Raven’s hands find Abby’s. She peels Abby’s fingers back, interlaces them through her own. Abby figures it’s okay. She’s not really touching Raven, she doesn’t really have her hands on Raven’s skin, they’re just holding hands, it’s not that big of a deal. Holding hands and _making out_ , but it’s fine. It’s fine until Raven steps even closer, slots their hips together.

Abby pulls back to gasp.

“Raven,” she says, kissing her again. “We shouldn’t.” She kisses her, means it to just be a peck but gets lost in the soft way Raven’s mouth sighs open. When she finally pulls back again, she repeats, “We shouldn’t.”

"We don't have to, babe,” Raven says. She squeezes her hands. “It's okay. I just. I've wanted to for—”

"Since I saw you in that damn bikini."

Raven pulls farther back and looks at her, irises almost as dark as her pupils. "Since I saw you."

“Fuck,” it’s not so much a word as a breath, an exhalation.

Raven just keeps looking at her, and Abby gives up on doing the right thing. She pulls her hands out of Raven’s and puts them on her hips instead, and Abby was right, she was right, there’s no going back now. She rubs a finger against the tie of Raven’s swimsuit bottoms. Raven’s chest heaves with her breath, and Abby leans in again. She catches Raven’s bottom lip between her teeth, bites down harder as Raven moans. Abby bites at her jaw, noses under her ear, keeps her hands tight around her hips.

“Abby,” Raven says, tilts her head back so Abby can get to her neck more easily. “We don’t have to. If you’re drunk or—”

“God, Raven,” Abby dips her tongue into the hollows above Raven’s collarbones. “It’s not just the bikini or the jello shots, it’s— since I saw you.”

It’s true, fuck, it’s true. Raven had mid-life crisis written all over her when Abby met her— she still does, maybe, maybe this is the _worst_ idea, but Abby is so tired of pretending she doesn’t want her.

“Okay,” Raven says, and she clutches at Abby’s shoulders. “I want to— Abby, can I touch you?”

Abby shakes her head. She bites at the tendons straining in Raven’s neck.

“I don’t know how much time we have,” she says, moves her mouth back to Raven’s lips. “I want to make you come.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Raven says, then, “ _yes_.”

Raven’s swimsuit is easy enough to take care of, untied at the neck as Abby kisses her. God, Abby wants to touch _everything_. She doesn't bother untying the rest of Raven’s top, leaves it dangling around her ribcage as she brushes her thumbs over Raven’s nipples.

“Fuck, Abby,” Raven whispers. She arches into Abby’s hands.

Hearing her name in Raven’s low desperate voice sets Abby on edge. She wants to make Raven come _now_. The washer is right there, and a good height, and she maneuvers Raven back into it as she kisses her.

“Up,” Abby says. “Up.”

It takes a little fumbling— Raven’s hands on Abby’s shoulders and a coordinated jump-and-lift— but Raven makes it on top of the washing machine, Abby stepping between her legs and getting her mouth on Raven’s breasts immediately. Raven lets out half a groan before cutting herself off. God, they have to be _quiet_ , and all Abby wants to do is make Raven scream. She gets one hand on Raven’s lower back, the other one slipping inside her swimsuit bottoms, her mouth still on Raven’s chest.

Raven’s swimsuit is cold and damp against the back of Abby’s hand, but Abby’s fingers find nothing but wet heat. She feels dizzy. Raven pulls Abby away from her chest, tugs until their lips are together again. Abby’s fingers swim around Raven’s clit.

“Raven,” Abby says. She has nothing else to say, like nothing else exists but this, but Raven in front of her.

Abby dips her fingers and she wants to tease, but Raven rolls her hips and Abby’s knuckle deep without even meaning to be. Raven whines.

“Raven,” Abby says again, and pushes deeper.

Raven arches her back.

Abby pumps her fingers, fast, because they don’t have much time, they have to get back to the party, and also because Raven is too much, too much of everything, and Abby needs her to come. Raven seems to be on the same page, her hips bouncing on top of the washer.

Abby’s other hand comes up to tangle in Raven’s wet hair. She tugs on it a little, opens Raven’s neck to her mouth. She’d like to latch on, mark Raven as she fucks her, but she’s not that stupid. She settles for fleeting bites that will fade quickly.

Raven wraps her arms around Abby, clutches her, presses their bodies together, Abby’s hand trapped between them. Abby scissors her fingers.

“ _Abby_ ,” Raven groans, breath hot in Abby’s ear, and she shudders, clenching and digging her fingernails into Abby’s back. “Abby, fuck, Abby.”

Abby bites a little too hard, shaky on her name in Raven’s broken voice.

Raven barely lets herself come down before she starts pushing at the straps of Abby’s swimsuit, trying to get them off her shoulders. Abby catches her hands.

“But Abby, I want to—”

“Later,” Abby says without thinking. Raven beams, and Abby’s in trouble, she’s in _so much trouble_ , and she can’t even find it in herself to care. “We have to get back out there. They’ll notice.”

“Yeah,” Raven says. She kisses Abby again. “Yeah, okay, I’m good.”

Abby bites her lip. “Your suit’s still untied.”

“Right,” Raven laughs.

Abby does it back up for her, Raven’s face too close, eyes too dark the whole time.

“There,” Abby sounds more breathless than she’d like.

Raven catches Abby’s face in both hands. She presses their foreheads together.

“Later?” she asks.

Abby nods, the movement moving Raven’s head, too. “Later.”

She is in so much trouble.

-

Abby gets the platter of uncooked hamburgers out of the refrigerator—after she's washed her hands and gotten her heartbeat under control—figures it works as an excuse for why she was inside. Raven holds the door open for her and they rejoin the party.

“Reyes!” Octavia shouts immediately, and Abby thinks they’ve been caught. But Octavia is beaming as she approaches them with sparklers. It’s not quite dark enough for the full effect, but she hands one to each of them, still grinning. “You’re just in time to watch me destroy these boys in a push up contest.”

“Why are they even trying?” Raven asks, swirling her sparkler through the air. “We all know you’re going to win.”

She heads off with Octavia, doesn’t spare Abby another glance. It’s good, it’s normal, no one noticed anything. Abby just has to act like she doesn’t know what it’s like to have Raven shaking and moaning her name. She can do that. No one has to know anything happened.

And then Clarke asks Raven, “Where have you even been?”

“Banging your mom,” Raven says without hesitation, and Abby almost drops the plate of hamburgers. Raven looks her way, finally, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Sorry, Dr. Griffin. Not a good joke.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Not the worst you’ve ever made.”

“What?” Raven’s voice is indignant. “I’m _hilarious_.”

“Keep telling yourself that, hon,” Octavia says. “Now c’mon, you gotta cheer me on.”

She explains the rules of the push-up contest and Abby gets the grill lit for the burgers.

Everything’s fine. If the burgers end up a little overcooked because Raven keeps glancing at her and Abby can’t stop thinking about how much she wants to kiss her again, well, no one is rude enough to complain.

 

 


End file.
